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1.
It should have been more difficult, or taken more time, or more careful intent.
It should have taken him more than a few glances, an angry parting, and an ultimate, almost fated coming together over a disgusting Devil Fruit.
It should have taken him longer to warm up to Ace, to grow comfortable, even fond of his presence. But Ace was all sunny smiles and earnest determination that they would escape Sixis, that they would live and sail the seas and have adventures and be free.
As if the unflinching friendship hadn't been enough for a man who'd never really had any significant lasting friendships before, Ace had come out with that line about him being treasure found on Sixis, and Deuce was lost.
It's close quarters on Striker, probably will be for a while, until they can collect some money for a bigger boat or start gathering more crew. Deuce doesn't mind it, not really. Free of Sixis's offshore currents, the East Blue is peaceful and Ace's new powers are more than enough to keep them both comfortably warm overnight.
Ace is stretched out along the open stretch of narrow deck at Striker's bow, an arm folded behind his head, snoring softly in peaceful sleep. Deuce kept a watchful eye from the little well where Ace would stand to propel Striker, both on the sea around them and on Ace as he rested.
Was it weird to stare at his captain like that? Especially after only knowing him a short while? But the idea of a Devil Fruit user sleeping on such a narrow craft as Striker makes anxiety curl in Deuce's chest. Or maybe it was simply that the Devil Fruit user was Ace?
It was just...he doesn't want his new captain to die from something stupid like rolling off Striker in his sleep, that was all. He doesn't want his first friend to die in such a way, not so soon after meeting and becoming friends. Not when Ace was so warm and so genuine and Deuce craves spending time in his presence, despite being literally stuck with only him for well over a week now.
That...that was a normal friendship thing, right? It's embarrassing, not having the frame of reference likely everyone else in the world had. It's normal to want to sit closer, to listen to Ace's voice as he told some rambling, impossible-sounding story. It's normal to watch his expressions change as he spoke, freckled cheeks stretching as he smiled, right?
A breeze rose off the sea, lifting Ace's hair delicately, sending strands of Deuce's into his mouth and catching in the eyeholes of his mask indelicately, and he grumbles as he frees the strands and tucks them back behind his ear a little more viciously than necessary. Ace barely twitches, but Deuce feels the air warm a little more after a moment, his captain, his friend, compensating even in his sleep, and something soft and warm unfurls in his chest.
He shifts, squirms in his spot in the well, adjusting until he's mostly reclining, and folds his arms along the lip of the well to brace his chin on. More comfortable, a little lower and closer to Ace--to Ace's radiating warmth.
He resists the urge to reach out, to curl his fingers through loose dark waves falling over Ace's arm under his head, and turns his gaze back out to sea.
2.
Mihal's back on the boat, hopefully keeping an eye on Kotatsu so the lynx won't wander off or try to eat some poor village pet; Skull is...somewhere, and a brief flicker of anxiety ripples through Deuce before he quashes it down mercilessly; and Ace is laughing uproariously with men bigger than him and older than him and honestly scarier-looking than him, boasting loudly and downing drinks by the pint.
It seems like Ace is glowing, even in the half-light of this grimy bar they found in a dingy little village, not far from Loguetown. Even from across the room Deuce can see the way his freckled cheeks flush pink, either from drink or laughter, he isn’t sure. Ace's mug slams down on the bartop, grey eyes watchful as another challenger in whatever dumb drinking contest they’re having stumbles, slurs something, and then drops.
The cheering and laughter are deafening, and in the midst of it, all Ace grins winningly and grabs for another mug.
It's impossible not to watch him, speaking with ease, teasing and jeering, but when his hands go to his wallet and he slaps berri down onto the bar to continue the contest, Deuce almost wishes he'd stayed at the boat with Mihal and Kotatsu. He hasn't decided if this is better or worse than Ace blatantly not paying for his meals and getting chased through most of the villages they've visited.
He'll decide once it's clear if another chase is going to happen. Again.
Another man collapses, head bouncing off a barstool as he goes down, and Deuce winces. There's more drunken laughter, but Ace stoops to check on the fallen competitor, and Deuce's chest warms, flutters. He can see the man's chest rising from his spot in a corner, can see the shifting and grin of a man who hadn't felt this particular hurt. His hand swipes at Ace in a friendly, flailing gesture, and Ace grins and pats his shoulder back before rising again in time to catch a new mug thrust his way.
They're gonna be here all night.
Deuce determinedly doesn't pay any mind to the rest of the bar, sticks to his journal in his corner. A waitress, maybe the barkeeper's daughter, smiles when she brings him a refill, something he barely notices because Ace is laughing loudly again, and a moment later seems to spot Deuce, his grin softening just a little as he raises his mug and beckons him over.
He shakes his head in reply--he isn't getting anywhere near that chaos if he can avoid it--and smiles when Ace pouts at him from across the bar. It’s sweet, the offer of inclusion, and the thought of sharing a drink with Ace, tucked close together at the bar or in Deuce's current corner table, is enough to soften his smile from something amused to a dangerous sort of wistful, a rush of warmth in his ears and cheeks, and he can see the pout Ace is sending him waver with his own returned smile.
Deuce leans forward, planting his elbow on the slightly sticky tabletop, resting his chin in his hand and tilting his head back toward Ace's current drinking companions, who seem to be getting steadily louder, wobblier, rowdier. Ace's gaze is comparatively clear as he grins at Deuce conspiratorially, a flash of orange and yellow through his dark hair as he turns, and Deuce scoffs. The lousy little cheater , though there’s no lack of fondness in the thought.
Ace is a pirate, after all.
Of course, Ace has rather clearly lacked any sort of subtlety in the entire time Deuce has known him, and that certainly hasn't changed in the last few minutes, in a bar full of people and surrounded by drunks. Three more drinks slammed back, and Deuce catches sight of another swirl of flames from the corner of his eye, looks up in time to see the little burst of light fade into nothing, only the freckles coating the back of Ace's shoulder glowing like embers. It's quick, nothing overly telling, and for a moment it seems like Deuce was the only one to notice, between his knowledge of Ace and his Devil Fruit and simple awareness brought from the fact that he might have still been watching Ace's movements and laughter.
Apparently one of the other, bigger competitors in their little drinking contest notices it too, and isn’t quite drunk enough to dismiss it entirely. There’s a roar of offense, glass shattering as mugs are swept off the bar as the man lunges for Ace. His captain dodges back far more gracefully than any man who’s had that many drinks should be able to, ducks a swing, sweeps a leg out, and takes down two other people sitting in their barstools directly in the attacker’s path, making the brawl suddenly far larger and more involved than it was before.
Ace’s hands ignite, flames licking at his hair and over his joints, reflecting in every bit of glassware or shining metal in the bar, and the glitter of it catches Deuce off guard, a hint of beauty to appreciate before someone goes flying through a window and the whole evening is essentially ruined for everyone.
He stays in his seat for perhaps a moment longer than he should, considering the way more and more of the bar becomes embroiled in the fighting or flee outright. The waitress from before is crouched down near the bar, not looking especially frightened, more disgruntled than anything else, and ducks her head with a resigned, practiced sort of ease when someone is thrown against the other side of the bar but doesn’t quite fall over it. He doesn’t look at her long, his eye drawn instinctively to Ace, near the center of the fray, still laughing as he punches and weaves, his flames more for show and impression than serving a real purpose in this fight. Apparently he’s made at least a few friends in the course of swindling men in a drinking contest, because not everyone is aiming to kick his ass.
It’s more than Deuce usually gets in these scenarios. He tracks the line of Ace’s arm as he swings again, hitting a much larger man square in the nose and turning into the next grapple, and then he sighs, rising to his feet and packing away his journal and pen. He finishes the rest of his drink with a grimace, puts down enough money to cover him and Ace and hopefully a little extra, and then resigns himself to jumping into the fray alongside his captain.
Ace is bright-eyed and grinning and cheers when Deuce kicks a man into a table, collapsing both in the process.
3.
Deuce has come to enjoy the fights, and isn’t that a concept. It’s not so much the fighting as it is the banter, the camaraderie and partnership that comes with standing back-to-back or side-by-side with Ace. His bright, cheering whoop as Deuce kicked a grown man in the head and off the ship, a snarl of disgust fading quickly once the man was in the water and out of sight and Ace's flames were curling around him, around all the Spades, protective and oddly inspiring in equal measure. It's comfortable, nearly fun, calling out a joking scold when Ace's fire brushes a little too close, and while he might want to avoid having to buy a new coat again so soon after the last incident, he's never been burned by Ace's flames, has never feared them, has never felt more than pleasant warmth and comfort when the fire did rarely brush against his skin.
The others watch their backs, and Deuce keeps his eyes on Ace, working his way across the deck, and with all the other Spades throwing themselves into battle it's easy enough to make his way up to Ace's spot with only a few extra punches thrown. Flame Commandment swirls out from Ace's position, a vortex of brilliant light and heat that almost feels like a summer day to Deuce, but there are screams from past Ace's body as his opponents dive for the comparative safety of the sea, smoking and smoldering on the way down.
Ace whirls, a grin spreading bright on his face when his eyes land on Deuce, rolling his shoulders out, the flames licking over his limbs flickering out completely.
"You kicked that guy so hard! That was awesome!" he says excitedly, barely reacting when Kotatsu mewls as the last of the bounty hunters bails off Spadille. "You don't usually get so mad, Deu, what’d he say?"
Best not to think about that too much. Deuce scowls, and there's no hiding the curiosity from Ace, who leans in a little closer, not quite touching but near enough to whisper and still hear each other as the rest of the crew breaks into the early stages of a post-battle party.
"Hey," he breathes, and Deuce can see every one of his freckles across his cheekbones and nose, can smell the smokey scent that always comes from fighting for more than a few minutes. Ace's eyes are firmly on his face, even as Deuce can hear Finamore calling if they want anything to drink, and Saber promising Kotatsu treats he probably shouldn't have, and all he can think of is the heat coming off Ace's body, close enough to sink into his skin and just making him want more, closer, warmer. "You okay, Deu? Something happen?"
'I love you, man!' the bounty hunter had called toward Ace, something that had probably gone right over his head with fighting erupting over Spadilles's deck, and while the thought makes something burn in Deuce's stomach, the words linger in his mind. Was it the ease with which the man made such a declaration, or the unsavory intent behind the words, that the proclamation was only meant for Ace's ability to put up a fight, to have earned such an enormous bounty on his head after a relatively short time of pirating? Was it the implicit threat to his captain and best friend, who Deuce had sworn to follow and protect within days of forming an alliance to escape Sixis?
Was it the unjustified fear that someone or something would pull Ace's attention and self away from his side, their friendship and partnership?
"I love you '. the words turn over in his head, the memory of the bounty hunter's voice fading away until all that's left is Deuce's own thoughts and a growing sense of warm, steady rightness. I love you, I love you...
Deuce swallows, thick past a choking realization, heavy with the recognition that he's been incredibly stupid for several straight months. Ace's dark eyebrows pinch together a little more, lips turning down into a worried frown, and Deuce's stomach swoops at the knowledge that all that worry and concern is for him .
"It was nothing," he says, and it probably doesn't sound like he means it at all, if the way Ace is still looking at him is any indication. "I just...I'm fine, Ace, really."
Ace's hand lands on his arm, hot even through the material of his jacket, and grey eyes widen just a tiny bit, brighten just a little, when he takes a half-step closer, pressing into the touch.
"Okay," his captain breathes back, the frown turning up a little, still worried but a far more familiar smile that has Deuce responding in kind almost before he can catch himself. "Come on, before the rest drink us dry. That really was a good kick, I haven't seen you do that before."
His hand slides down Deuce’s arm as he turns to join the rest of the Spades in their outbreaking party, and Deuce mourns the upcoming loss for a moment before Ace’s fingers catch around his hand and hold on, tugging him gently along. It’s easy to grasp Ace’s hand back, for all that he’s hyper aware of curling his fingers around Ace’s, of the calluses on his palm and the pads of his fingers, of the flickering heat just under his skin that lingers after a fight he enjoyed.
Deuce opens his mouth, to say what he isn’t entirely sure. To deny the praise for fending off an attacker? To admit what the bounty hunter had said and why he’d reacted the way he had? To blurt out the newfound words that were still echoing in his mind, bright and truthful and bursting to be spoken while Ace still held his hand so gently…
Kotatsu let out a loud, though still cute, meow, front paws braced on the railing and looking out into the night, sensing something in the unfurling fog that the others don't. Ace frowns, turning away, and Deuce's mouth snaps shut as the shape of a ship rises in the distance, the haze distorting any identifying marks on the prow or sails.
"Are they coming back 'round?" Ace asks, frowning even more, squinting to try and make out some detail. His fingers tighten around Deuce's hand, and it tastes sour when he has to pull away.
"Those aren't bounty hunters," Deuce says and turns toward the helm, pushing aside the revelation the last battle brought in favor of making sure they'd live through the next.
4.
Deuce can still see the shimmer of Sabaody Park’s lights and rides when he closes his eyes, even as he trudges his way back toward Spadille and whatever members of the crew haven’t yet disembarked to indulge in the archipelago’s many offerings. Mihal was a given, maybe he'd be able to recommend a book or something else distracting to take Deuce's mind off the Ferris Wheel for the rest of the night.
He doesn't like the bitter disappointment uncurling through his mind, making his hands shake enough that he shoves them into his pockets just to be done with it. More than that, the frustration with their Marine tail is only growing, to the point he's a little worried he's going to start muttering to himself.
It wasn't like the whole day was a loss. It...admittedly had been a weird start, with running into Isuka, clearly on vacation and clearly ignoring that fact as she bellowed her intention to arrest Ace, and having to hunt Ace down and pay off all the food vendors he'd dodged paying was an unfortunately, annoyingly common occurrence, but after that... Walking through Sabaody Park, with Ace reaching out to tug him along to something he thought Deuce would like, being able to do the same, catching Ace's hand and pulling him back with a snort of laughter when it looked like he was going to be distracted by food or some game.
Ace hadn't pulled his hand away, had let their clasped hands swing between them as he gestured elsewhere, to bubbles or some silly game prize, distracting Deuce before he could overthink too much, pulling him toward the Ferris Wheel he'd tried to hide his interest in.
"You wanna ride it? Now's the time, we're here, let's go," Ace had said, walking backwards with their hands still linked so he could smile at Deuce, and he'd agreed, because he wanted to anyway, because Ace hadn't laughed, because he was still holding onto Deuce's hand like it was completely natural to do so.
And then Isuka had barged in just as the door to the gondola was closing, and they'd all gotten locked into the most uncomfortable ride in existence together, to the point that he could hardly look at Ace or do much else at all. He almost couldn't blame Ace for literally jumping out of the gondola at the top of the wheel when he got the chance, once Isuka had started trying to convince him to join the Marines. He knows perfectly well why something like that would never be an option for Ace, beyond the fact that Ace simply wouldn't give up the freedom he so craves for anything. He understands why Ace bailed out.
It didn't make the disappointment sting any less, nor the slight burn of his eyes lessen.
Even Isuka seemed to realize she'd interrupted something by the time they made it to the ground again, awkward and silent, and he thought he saw a hint of apology in her eyes when she turned away alongside the disappointment that Ace hadn't taken her offer.
There's nothing else to be done. Isuka let him go, Ace is likely exploring again, and without having to return his wallet or save him from angry shopkeepers and vendors, there isn't any reason for Deuce to go looking for him again. Better to pull himself together and go back to Spadille, find something incredibly alcoholic and tuck himself into the spare bunk in the infirmary so the others don't give him those sad pitying looks in the crew quarters. He'll be fine in the morning; likely hungover, but fine, and better able to pretend like the whole thing hadn't been nearly so crushing.
Spadille is looming in front of him, anchored and docked and gangplank lowered to allow the crew to come and go as they like. Mihal and likely Kotatsu will be on watch, so he isn't concerned about having to do a full check to make sure no one else has boarded. It makes Ace's silent approach even more startling, really.
"Deu," he says, and Deuce nearly jumps out of his skin, whirling even as he sniffles sharply and hopes the coming night might cover the worst of how upset he is. Not as well as he hopes, if the way Ace's face falls is any indication. "Deu, I'm sorry."
"For what?" he asks, clearing his throat and grimacing a little. "You were probably right to get out of there. I'm sorry you had to deal with her..."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Deu," Ace says vehemently, eyes flashing for just a moment before he seems to deflate again. "I shouldn't have left, not like that, especially since I just ditched you up there with her. I'm really, really sorry."
He does one of his oddly formal bows then, and Deuce finds his hands flailing almost immediately. "A-Ace, come on, it's fine..."
"It isn't!" Ace says, finally lifting his head to catch one of Deuce's hands, regret clear on his face, and it's even more jarring than the apologetic bow because Deuce knows how he feels about regrets. "I wanted to take you on that Ferris wheel, Deu, really. You looked so excited, and I wanted to see Sabaody with you, and see you see it and start writing all about it in your journal cause I knew you would, and it was just supposed to be a nice thing for the two of us and I'm sorry about all of it."
His grey eyes are bright and sincere and sad, and Deuce is weak to that sort of look on Ace, weak to Ace in general, really. He isn't mad at Ace at all for what happened, simply disappointed in the situation.
"You don't have to be sorry," he says, and squeezes Ace's hand when his lips part to protest again. "Isuka barging in and making it weird wasn't your fault. I thought she'd be yelling at the ship for longer, you couldn't have known she'd show up. And...thank you. For taking me on the Ferris wheel, and trying to do something so nice. It means..."
It means a lot; it means everything; Deuce loved Ace even more in that moment than he had that morning, and still did because of the attempt being made, and he'll likely love Ace even more in the morning when he's calmed down a little and the immediate disappointment will be gone entirely.
Ace smiles, and it's still apologetic but it's warm, and he takes a step closer, watching the way Ace's eyes flare a little wider, the heat of his Devil Fruit rolling off him just a little warmer than before. Their fingers lace together, and when Ace shuffles just a little closer too he can't help leaning forward, further into Ace's surging warmth, close enough once again to count freckles on his cheeks despite the sunlight fading into night.
Ace's fingers tighten around his, head tilting up the tiniest bit to compensate for the bare difference in their heights, and then he's lifting their linked hands to brush his lips to the backs of Deuce's fingers, and Deuce feels his breath catch, eyes caught on Ace's face, his movements, his lips as they part to say something , the rising anticipation...
"Oh, Master Ace, Master Deuce!" Skull bellows from somewhere behind them, close enough to make Deuce jump again, nearly onto Ace's toes, and even Ace startles, neck clicking a little at how fast his head turns to look at their approaching crew mates.
"Damn it all," Ace mutters, and Deuce steps back, a safe arm's distance away and far enough to not be a risk of stepping on Ace's feet again. Their hands release, Deuce's falling limp at his side once more, and he turns away when he feels eyes on him, ignoring Cornelia's raised eyebrow and Aggie's vaguely wary gaze. Ace's been swept into conversation about the archipelago, the amusement park and shopping and other districts the Spades split up to explore and for resupplying.
"We lost the Nailer a while back," Skull says, looming up alongside Deuce as he let himself get pulled into the tide of pirates clambering back aboard Spadille. "Not sure where she ended up, we figured we should make use of the chance to get some shopping done."
"She went to Sabaody Park," Deuce mutters, glancing back to find Ace's eyes on him again, even as Finamore chatters at him. The regret is gone at least, but there's something deep in his eyes that has Deuce's breath catching once more, even parted from each other and surrounded by the crew as they are.
"Man, she really is on vacation, huh?" Skull asks, clearly amused, and Deuce snorts even as he resigns himself to his silent longings for a while longer yet.
5.
Deuce is freezing, and less pleased with this plan by the minute. He doesn't know why Ace has gotten it into his head to go looking for Red-Haired Shanks, especially when it seems like all his focus has been on hunting down Whitebeard since they left Sabaody Archipelago in a blaze of flames and running and dramatics.
And Deuce has every faith in Ace, in his strength and abilities, even if his plans are usually a little too direct for Deuce's taste, but this is rushed. Everything has been rushed since they entered the New World, and while the crews' overall strengths and skills are only improving, Ace's haki and Devil Fruit powers right alongside them, Deuce can't quite bring himself to fully believe they'll be able to take down an Emperor, not yet, not today.
So Deuce is honestly not quite sure what to expect as they march their way up the island, tracking Ace's bursts of flames signaling his location, his own tracks already filled in with snow and sleet, his path lost and leaving them slowly, cautiously picking their way up the steep incline.
Deuce grumbles into his scarf, pulled high enough to cover his face below his mask, and heaves himself up another icy slope before finding himself on a stretch of narrow cliff, facing the mouth of a cave flickering with campfire light somewhere deep within and guarded by a man with blond dreadlocks and a rifle in his hands. He pauses there, watching and being watched with equal wariness as the rest of the group clamber up behind him and spread out to face off against the single Red-Hair Pirate in their way.
"Spades?" he asks, and when Deuce nods slowly he grins, gesturing with the rifle toward the cave's entrance. "Ace is through there. Seems excited to introduce you lot."
Deuce's eyes narrow, considering, and he exchanges a glance with Saber, who shrugs and nods. There's enough of them to watch each others' backs, and Deuce cautiously steps forward into the cave, far warmer than the blizzard outside, featuring both a roaring bonfire and Ace, stripped out of his cloak and sitting beside Red-Haired Shanks with a strange sort of calm, holding a mug and beaming over at them.
"Hey guys!" he calls, bright as can be, and Deuce feels his eye twitch just a little.
"Ace, what the hell?" Exhaustion coats his voice, the change in temperature from the outside to the heat in the cave making his chest feel tight for a long moment. Ace’s head tips, eyes darting over Deuce's face, and then he bounds to his feet, snatching another mug in passing and taking a path directly through the campfire to get to them faster, drawing yelps and winces from the Red-Hair Pirates who don't know better.
"Spades, meet Red-Hairs. Red-Hairs, meet Spades. We're partying," he announces with simple efficiency, moving straight to Deuce's side and pressing the second mug into his hands. He can feel the seeping warmth through the thick gloves he's wearing, just barely, and Ace fusses with his scarf for a second before arranging it so Deuce can actually take a sip. "Deu, come meet Shanks."
He chokes on his sip. Of course he does. Ace pulls him along--around the fire, thankfully--as he sputters for air, and he finds himself standing in front of one of the Four Emperors still coughing, clinging to Ace's arm and wondering just how they got to this point.
Shanks...isn't the daunting figure Deuce was expecting the Emperor to be. He's taller and broader than them both, but not by too much--it's his gaze that's truly intimidating, dark eyes steady and watching them, cataloging what he sees and probably finding them silly children for approaching him and his crew like this, and Deuce gasps slightly to himself, trying to get one good breath before something goes horribly wrong.
"Your first mate?" Shanks asks, eyes glancing over Deuce, and he wonders just what a legendary pirate like him must see. "Good to meet you, kid."
"Deu's saved us more than once," Ace says, something so utterly warm and proud in his voice that Deuce can feel his face warming in a vivid blush, and an amused curl of a smirk settles on Shanks's face.
"Sit down, boys. Ace, tell us more about Luffy, and your adventures so far. That bounty's impressive for a rookie so early in their career, you've got to have some good fights under your belt already."
And...they do. Deuce finds himself sitting close to the fire, tucked close against Ace's side, Shanks sitting on Ace's other side, and he basks in Ace's warmth and the heat of the fire and sips his hot drink as Ace regales the Red-Hair Pirates with stories about Dawn Island and Luffy and Sixis and all their adventures since. And Deuce has heard many of these stories before, most of them on Sixis while building Striker or in the days of sailing on her, just the two of them, so he finds himself almost dozing as Ace speaks, listening more to the lift and lilt of his captain's voice rather than the actual words of each ridiculous misadventure of the brothers or heated fight of their pirate crew.
He wakes up again embarrassed, not too much later, but enough to know he'd definitely fallen asleep against Ace's shoulder for a while there, and in front of an Emperor and his crew too. Shanks is gone, though Deuce can still hear his voice in the cave, alongside a lot of cheering and yelling that probably means someone's either started a drinking contest, or started encouraging Kotatsu to do tricks. Or maybe the Red-Hairs' monkey, he thinks he saw one when they'd arrived.
He expected to find Ace gone as well, likely drinking along or eating everything in sight, but he's still there, pressed flush against Deuce's side and accepting his weight leaning against him seemingly without concern. He turns his mug around and around in his hands, looking out over the cave full of pirates, both veterans and rookies cheerfully sharing drinks and snacks and stories, just for the one night. There's a little smirk on his lips, likely amused by whatever's got Finamore shrieking in laughter deeper in the cave, but there's an off sort of distance in his gaze that has Deuce snapping into proper wakefulness.
"What's wrong?" he asks softly, drawing Ace's focused attention as he lifts his head away from his captain's shoulder. Looking at him properly allows Deuce the chance to spot shadows under his eyes, and it's hard to tell how much of it is shadow cast from the campfire's light off the cave walls and how much is whatever thought Ace is turning over and over in his head. It wasn't so different than the look on his face when Deuce had first met him, realized his ties to Gold Roger and rejected him so harshly, and the similarity is enough to shoot ice through his veins, jolting him nearly as badly as the frigid climb up the mountain had.
A brief furrow of dark eyebrows, Ace considering him silently, and then a soft hum.
"Nothing. You okay? You were out for a while."
"It doesn't look like nothing," Deuce replied quietly, chancing a quick glance around the cave. With the ruckus going on in the depths of the cave, none of the Red Hair Pirates particularly nearby, they weren't too at risk of being overheard, but this isn't the sort of thing they talk about, let alone around veteran pirates who operated during the Great Age of Piracy, who might have known the Pirate King or at the very least definitely knew of him. "Is it...is it about..."
He doesn't even know how to phrase the question. Ace hates Gol D. Roger, sometimes Deuce thinks more than anyone else, and that stilts all conversations that could be held about the Pirate King. His hesitance is enough for the question to be clear, at least to Ace.
"It came up," he mutters, and that's all he says about it. "Do you think we can do it? Take down the Emperors and Warlords and Celestial Dragons?"
It wasn't a new thought, he and Ace had talked over the failings of the World Government, the idea of battling the fiercest pirates and powers on the seas and in the world, but to have it so simply stated, a proper goal instead of late-night musings while sprawled out on the deck of the ship and looking up at the stars...
The idea should be ridiculous. Daring to stand against Emperors, daring to threaten Celestial Dragons, it should be enough to challenge anyone's convictions, especially so soon after entering the New World.
Deuce's belief in Ace hasn't wavered since they shared the Flame-Flame Fruit, and it certainly doesn't falter now.
"We'll need a plan," he says, tone like it's a simple musing and not an absolute necessity. Ace's eyes are on him, and he takes a breath, squares his shoulders and looks back. "And I'll have your back. So will the others. We'll do it together, like everything else."
He's sworn his life to Ace. Of course he'll follow him into this.
Ace's smile is a small, tired, aching thing. Surrounded by others, Deuce can't lean into him as much as he'd like to, can't smooth his hand over Ace's back or through Ace's hair. He presses back against his side, though, and lets Ace's head tip to lean against his, offering as much comfort as he can, and not nearly as much as he wishes he could.
+1.
The violet and white ink of the new tattoo adorning Ace's back is bold against his sun-darkened skin, framed along lines of muscle and smooth freckled skin and making it really, really difficult for Deuce to drag his eyes away from his captain--former captain. Whitebeard's mark proudly adorns Ace's back as he drinks alongside the Emperor and their new captain, smiling more easily than he's done in months.
It's more a relief than Deuce can really describe, but he thinks the pirates surrounding him might understand. Ace has been stressed, looking more and more worn, ever since they'd entered the New World, especially after their meeting with Shanks and whatever conversation they'd had about Ace's goals. Marco and Thatch at the very least had noticed once they'd been taken aboard the Moby Dick, though he won't put it past the other Commanders to have seen it as well.
Thatch is there beside Ace, refilling Ace's cup and his own, and Deuce definitely caught a glimpse of him pouring more in Whitebeard's cup when they thought Marco wasn't looking. The conspiratorial grin they exchange is enough to make Deuce snort, turning his face toward his own mug to hide the reaction from the First Mate standing beside him, but he isn't naive enough to think Marco doesn't know, or won't put a stop to it soon. There's already a twitch to the older man's eye, and it makes it all the more difficult to fight back a laugh.
"It's nice to see him not scowling," Commander Izou says a few feet away, earning a murmur of agreement from several of the quieter crew even as a roar of cheering goes up again as someone in a different part of the deck raises another toast, the echoing ripple of it spreading slowly toward where they were lingering near the galley and Whitebeard's throne.
It is. It's nice to see Ace smiling again, enjoying his food and drink instead of stubbornly rushing through meals to get away from the Whitebeards and back to his plots to kill the Emperor. It's nice to see Ace relaxed, leaning back against Thatch's side as he tilted his head to talk to Whitebeard with something light and bright in his eyes that reminds Deuce of the weeks after Sixis, jetting across the East Blue on Striker. It's been nice to finally get a decent night's sleep again, once Ace had gathered all the Spades together in his storage room hideaway and told them he was joining Whitebeard's crew, and they'd all piled together like they'd done in Spadille's quarters.
Ace had spent the night curled into Deuce's side, and Deuce had kept his face turned toward his captain--his first, beloved friend--the entire night, whispering plans on what to say to Whitebeard, how Ace could try to make a better impression on the crew--something they really hadn't had to worry so much about, apparently. And Ace had whispered in the softest of tones how Whitebeard knew who he was, how Ace had told him that much and what Whitebeard's response had been, and Deuce knew he could join this crew alongside Ace because of that.
"He keeps up being charming like that and he'll have everyone wrapped around his finger soon enough," Skull says, jokingly despairingly and leaning over Deuce's shoulder in a familiar drunken gesture of camaraderie.
That's...extremely likely, too. It's how Ace had gotten most of his crew, and Deuce doesn't doubt he'll win over the holdouts on Whitebeard's crew soon enough. He's somehow already won over most of the Commanders and seems to be cementing himself a spot as one of Whitebeard's favored sons right before Deuce's eyes.
It should be reassuring. It mostly is. Ace will be protected, under a captain who doesn't care who his birth father is, in a crew that treats each other like family, something Ace certainly needs more of in his life. But Deuce can't help but think of how likely it'll be for them to lose track of each other in a crew this size, the chances of them being pulled in opposite directions until they could only meet by chance in a hallway or by advanced planning, and it's enough to make Deuce clutch at the drink in his hand a little tighter because he hadn't let himself consider any of this while Ace was still trying to kill the old man...
Ace turns in the process of a broad gesture, his eyes glancing over their group before he seems to do a double-take, gaze landing on Deuce wilting under Skull's weight beside Marco and several other Whitebeards, and his smile is instant, warm and bright as he waves at Deuce like he's excited to see him, like they hadn't seen each other bare hours ago during mealtime, like they hadn't woken up in a tangle of limbs amongst their Spades crewmates. Skull laughs, too loud so close to Deuce's ear, and Marco mumbles something under his breath that Deuce doesn't quite catch.
Commander Izou clearly does, covering a laugh with the wide sleeve of his kimono, and Skull sniggers to himself again, leaning a little more heavily. "Oh, Master Ace and Master Deuce have been like that for ages now."
"Been like what ?" Deuce asks, surly and trying to shrug himself free.
"Mooning!" Skull declares, before Deuce gets himself free and sends the other man staggering and dropping to the deck with a low oomph . He grumbles, straightening his mask over his face again before peering up at Deuce with a grumpy glower. "Rude, Master Deu. No need to get defensive like that, I'm just sayin' what's true."
"I don't moon," Deuce protests, though it's clear Skull isn't listening, and the veteran pirates don't really seem to believe him either.
"...besides, Ace is somehow worse, never thought the cap'n would be shy, of all things..."
Deuce elects to tune him out, eyes darting to Ace again at the mere mention of his name. Ace's head is tilted, dark curls falling against his cheek and toward his eye, and there's a brief, strong urge to march over and brush unruly waves back and away. He catches Ace's gaze properly, deaf to however the conversation behind him might be developing, because Ace is looking at him, intent even if his gaze is soft, something deep in his eyes that Deuce realizes with a jolt looks an awful lot like his own quiet longing feels. Like Ace wants to walk over and join them, join Deuce, the same way Deuce wants to move to his side and linger there the rest of the night.
It should be jarring. It is, a little, but more than that it's warmth, determination, a hint of nerves that has his heart racing and his palms beginning to sweat a little, and he finds himself taking a step forward nearly before he realizes it, barely paying any mind to the way Skull calls after him as he leaves him and the Commanders behind.
"Hey!" Ace says when he's nearly reached Whitebeard's throne, hopping down from the Emperor's armrest to greet him, moving back to follow Deuce when he makes a token attempt to stay a little beyond Whitebeard and Commander Thatch's knowing, slightly too-amused gazes. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," Deuce replies, clearing his throat a little at the sudden influx of nerves that has him reconsidering if this is a good idea, but Ace is looking at him with a patient smile, and it's easier than he expected to reach out, taking Ace's hand in one of his, the other rising to brush his fingers against warm freckled cheeks.
Ace sighs, blinking slow and looking at Deuce squarely, lips curling just a little more, and that's enough to make Deuce swallow thickly and lean in, tipping Ace's chin just a little in an attempt to make the angle easier, more pleasant.
The first press is gentle, a slide and release, Ace's breath shivering against Deuce's cheek, their foreheads pressed together when they part for a breath, Deuce's eyes opening once more to gauge Ace's reaction. His grey eyes spark, hand tightening around Deuce's as he leans into the touch against his cheek, and his smile is a little sharper and entirely pleased.
"Took us long enough, huh?" he asks, waiting until Deuce gets past the initial surprise and laughs in delighted relief, and then he's the one leaning into Deuce, initiating a second, firmer kiss, a heavier press of lips, another sigh, and then a hot tongue flicking gently against the seam of his lips to lick into him when Deuce sighs back. Ace's hand slides around his waist, pulling him in a little closer, enough to feel the heat of Ace's bare chest against his, and he revels in the chance to finally card his fingers into Ace's hair and hold him properly.
"FINALLY! PAY UP, LADS! BANSHEE THAT MEANS YOU TOO!!" Skull's roar echoes across the deck, and Ace pulls away laughing, though his arms linger tight around Deuce's body, keeping him in place like he's worried the ruckus will send him running.
"You couldn't have done this two months ago??" Ganryu wails like it's a personal betrayal, and the Whitebeards are hooting and hollering in a way that should be deeply embarrassing, but Deuce laughs too and brushes his thumb over Ace's cheekbone as his captain-friend- partner flips a rude gesture at a whistling Thatch over his shoulder.
"Shaddup, we coulda done this at Sabaody if you assholes hadn't interrupted!" Ace bellows back at his former crew, to a strange combination of embarrassed complaining and continued uproarious laughter. Deuce frees his hand from Ace's, only allows his partner a brief moment of disappointed confusion before cupping Ace's other cheek as well and kissing him again, smiling into it when Ace seems to melt into the contact.
I love you, I love you, he thinks, but doesn't say it, not just yet. One day he will. One day Ace will feel those words in their kisses; maybe he already does, Deuce doesn't know, but someday. Ace's hands tighten at his waist, and he breathes deep.
"A'ight, that's enough, get a room!" someone complains, likely joking, but Ace pulls away again, and there's bright mischief in his eyes, along with something considering, and he pauses a moment like he's trying to read Deuce's reaction.
He grins back.
"Thanks for the idea, Thatch!" Ace calls, smirking wickedly at the older pirate, who splutters, apparently not expecting any reaction other than embarrassment, and Deuce tips his head back and laughs as Ace grabs his hand and hauls them both toward the stairs leading into crew quarters, deeper within the ship.
They won't make it to Ace's crew quarters anytime particularly soon: it's a continuous route of pressing each other against walls or doors, curling fingers into hair, petting hands over shoulders, backs, waists, hips, stopping in the middle of the hall for slower, languid kisses that take Deuce's breath away and seem to make Ace burn a little slower and warmer.
"My Deu," Ace breathes against his lips, still two turns from his room.
"Stay with me?" Deuce asks in response when Ace's hand is on the doorknob, and he turns with wide eyes, looking at Deuce for a long moment before reaching out to curl his fingers into pale blue hair and reel him into another kiss, teeth and tongue and lips, hungry and desperate and longing all in one.
"As long as you want," he says, which sounds almost like he expects the answer to change someday, and Deuce kisses him back bruisingly and throws caution to the wind. It hasn't ever really been their style, anyway.
"I love you," he says when they part again, firm and honest, and Ace stares at him with a sort of stunned bewilderment on his face that Deuce has never seen from him, before his eyes soften and his cheeks color under Deuce's touch when his fingertips brush over clusters of freckles again. "I'm in love with you, Ace. I'm always going to want you."
His back hits the door, Ace boxing him in and kissing him, the hardest yet, the deepest yet, and he holds on tight and knows he's not letting go again anytime soon.
"I love you," Ace breathes back, radiant smile and ember-glowing eyes and love , and tips them both into their room.